<!DOCTYPE html>
<html>
<head>
<meta charset="UTF-8">
<title>Breath Mints by sadieb798</title>
<style type="text/css">

body { background-color: #ffffff; }
.CI {
text-align:center;
margin-top:0px;
margin-bottom:0px;
padding:0px;
}
.center   {text-align: center;}
.cover    {text-align: center;}
.full     {width: 100%; }
.quarter  {width: 25%; }
.smcap    {font-variant: small-caps;}
.u        {text-decoration: underline;}
.bold     {font-weight: bold;}
</style>
</head>
<body>
<h1><a href="https://archiveofourown.org/works/26291836">Breath Mints</a> by <a class='authorlink' href='https://archiveofourown.org/users/sadieb798/pseuds/sadieb798'>sadieb798</a></h1>

<table class="full">

<tr><td><b>Series:</b></td><td>The Soulmate Box [3]</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Category:</b></td><td>Marvel Cinematic Universe, The Avengers (Marvel Movies)</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Genre:</b></td><td>Alternate Universe - Canon Divergence, Bad Guys Made Them Do It, Cruise Ships, I know it usually means worse shit but here it is apt, I love that tag, Kissing, Language, M/M, Natasha Romanov Is a Good Bro, POV Alternating, POV Sam Wilson, POV Steve Rogers, Pre-Relationship, Pre-Slash, Public Display of Affection, Sarcasm, Seasickness, Steve's Brooklyn Accent, Teasing, Undercover Missions, Undercover as a Couple, but only for a hot second, kissing for a mission</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Language:</b></td><td>English</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Status:</b></td><td>Completed</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Published:</b></td><td>2020-09-04</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Updated:</b></td><td>2020-09-04</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Packaged:</b></td><td>2021-05-06 08:14:53</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Rating:</b></td><td>Mature</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Warnings:</b></td><td>No Archive Warnings Apply</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Chapters:</b></td><td>1</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Words:</b></td><td>1,625</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Publisher:</b></td><td>archiveofourown.org</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Story URL:</b></td><td>https://archiveofourown.org/works/26291836</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Author URL:</b></td><td>https://archiveofourown.org/users/sadieb798/pseuds/sadieb798</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Summary:</b></td><td><div class="userstuff">
              <p>“I ever show you a trick Nat taught me?”</p>
            </div></td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Relationships:</b></td><td>Steve Rogers/Sam Wilson</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Series:</b></td><td>The Soulmate Box [3]</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Series URL:</b></td><td>https://archiveofourown.org/series/1905814</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Comments:</b></td><td>6</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Kudos:</b></td><td>42</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Collections:</b></td><td>Samtember</td></tr>

</table>

<a name="section0001"><h2>Breath Mints</h2></a>
<div class="story"><div class="fff_chapter_notes fff_head_notes"><b>Author's Note:</b><blockquote class="userstuff">
      <p>With thanks to Natasha Romanov.</p><p>Also I've tried to be as vague as possible with the...sickness, so I hope it doesn't upset anyone reading.</p>
    </blockquote></div><div class="userstuff module">
    
    <p>
  <span>As it turns out - because nobody in the entire history of SHIELD thought to check on this - Steve has horrible seasickness.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Normally, Sam would find this hilarious. Except he’s pretending to be Steve’s husband on a couples cruise, and Steve’s head being in the toilet is interfering with their surveillance of the potential arms deal that’s supposed to happen somewhere onboard.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Sam gently knocks on the bathroom door. “Steve?” he tries. “You okay?”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“No,” he groans in response. Sam winces in sympathy, he was the same way with the flu just a few months ago and it’s only because of Steve’s soups and Bucky’s mother henning that he survived. “Fuckin’ ocean.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Yeah, </span>
  <em>
    <span>how </span>
  </em>
  <span>is it you’re fine flying </span>
  <em>
    <span>over</span>
  </em>
  <span> the ocean and </span>
  <em>
    <span>not </span>
  </em>
  <span>sailing it?” Sam asks, folding his arms over his chest and leaning against the door jam.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“I don't fuckin’ know, </span>
  <em>
    <span>Sam</span>
  </em>
  <span>, ‘m not a scientist,” Steve says impatiently, his full Brooklyn making an appearance. Sam smirks; it’s kind of a treat for him that Steve gets so pushy that his old accent comes into play. He lowkey loves the fact that despite all the speech and etiquette lessons Steve was subjected to during his bond-selling days, his stubbornness was enough to hang on to that accent of his.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Well, I’m gonna do a little snooping on top deck,” Sam decides, knocks twice with his knuckles to announce his departure. “Maybe impress a few people with my cover’s dance moves.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Beyond the door, there’s a chuckle. “Yeah right,” Steve sasses. "I've seen those moves, you're not that great.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>"Don't be jealous just cuz you don't have any," Sam drawls.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Promise you ’m not,” Steve replies.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Sam laughs, can’t help himself. As he turns to go, he tucks his hands into his jacket’s pockets and his fingers press against something rectangular shaped. Frowning, he pulls out a box of anti-nausea medication. Huh. He must have packed some and forgotten about it.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Hey, Steve,” he calls, crouching down to the floor. “Read the instructions on these and take some,” he orders and slides the medication underneath the door. He hopes that he calculated the distance right that they’d hit Steve’s feet. “Meet me later when you’re feeling better okay?”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Sure,” Steve groans and starts hurling again. Sam leaves before he sympathy-barfs.</span>
</p>
<hr/><p>
  <span>Thank God those anti-nausea pills worked, Steve thinks as he and Sam outpace a few of the goons their targets hired.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Steve turns a corner on the promenade deck, Sam close at his heels. There’s something to be said about being around a bunch of civilians and the muscled hire not wanting to draw attention that they don’t even pull the guns they’re carrying. Don’t get him wrong, Steve doesn’t want any civilians harmed, but he </span>
  <em>
    <span>is</span>
  </em>
  <span> glad these muscles are smart enough not to risk anything otherwise he and Sam would be in trouble.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>He looks around, tries to find something to block the way of the two or three men on their tail. Unfortunately, there’s only them and the ocean and Steve doesn’t feel like taking a dip.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“There’s a couples swing dance lesson in one of the dance halls,” Sam breathes at his left, nods ahead of them. “Seven doors, second right.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Steve glances over his shoulder. “I don’t think we have time,” he says, walking around an elderly couple in their way. “They’re not letting up.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Gaggle of women, twelve o’clock,” Sam breathes, relieved. Steve looks up and sure enough there’s a group of twelve or more women in their mid-sixties power walking towards them.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Steve slows his pace, and thankfully Sam does the same. They both weave through the rabble, and he can still feel Sam’s presence at his side even when they have more than a few older women between them. When they both reach the end, they break out into a run. Sam races up a stairwell and Steve follows his lead, keeps an ear and eye out for their new friends. They take too many turns for Steve to get his head around, but he trusts Sam’s knowledge of the ship from his solo surveillance.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Pretty soon they run into one of the lounges, where it’s packed with couples of different ages and sizes. Sam ditches his jacket, drops it on the floor without a second thought, his eyes forward the entire time. Steve feels a pang of loss because he knew it was Sam’s favorite, but doesn’t say anything and instead swipes a fishing hat from a twenty-something’s elbow. Sam grabs a white trench coat off the back of a chair and pulls it over his shoulders in one single, fluid movement that was so seamless he </span>
  <em>
    <span>had</span>
  </em>
  <span> to have learned it from Natasha. Steve pulls out his fake glasses from his pant’s pocket and slips them over his eyes and yanks at a color block sweater and a deep green tie from a coat stand as they sweep through the double doors that make up the exit.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>As they’re both fixing their clothes, Steve smooths down the thankfully two sizes too-big sweater when his hands graze against something in one of the pockets and it makes a rattling noise. Terror seizes his chest and he whips out the item, hopes to God it’s not some life-saving medication that he took. It’s a container of breath mints and he sighs, his shoulders sagging with relief.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Mint?” He offers Sam, popping the lid.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Oh,” Sam blinks and smiles, pleased. “Don’t mind if I do,” he adds and takes a few.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Steve smiles back and pops two into his mouth.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>They wander around the expansive shopping mall, Steve keeping an eye out for the men they ditched. It’s five minutes of walking and Sam’s indecisiveness over two different hats when Steve sees two goons peeking around the bodies of shoppers. He gives Sam a gentle nudge in the side and without a word, they move on.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Steve sees out of the corner of his eye an alcove that’s empty in the bustling shopping mall. Quick as anything, he grabs Sam’s hand, holding his fingers tightly as he speedwalks them towards it. The alcove isn’t so deep to completely hide them, but it </span>
  <em>
    <span>is </span>
  </em>
  <span>cozy and private enough that couples who want a little alone time can take refuge. He guides Sam inside and angles his body so that his own back is to the outside. Thankfully, his back is broad enough that what he’s doing could be perceived as looming to the casual observer.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Glancing over his shoulder, Steve makes sure the goons are heading in their direction before turning back to meet Sam’s gaze. His partner’s dark eyes blink up at him, confused but trusting. Steve’s hands go up to Sam’s cheeks, and it’s a testament to Sam’s faith in him that he doesn’t even flinch at the contact.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“I ever show you a trick Nat taught me?” Steve whispers, his thumbs gently stroke the stubble of Sam’s beard, he can feel the smooth skin underneath. Sam gives a small shake of his head, a little wrinkle of confusion appearing between his eyebrows.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Steve keeps an ear out and can make out the rushing footsteps coming closer towards the alcove. His heart beats in double time, fight or flight response kicking in and he knows it wouldn’t take much to incapacitate their tail. But the point is not to draw attention to themselves and if they did, they’d lose the only chance they have at stopping this deal from going through.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“It’ll be okay,” Steve assures, but he’s not quite sure which of them he’s trying to reassure. Once he’s sure the goons are close enough to their hiding spot, he dips his head down and presses his lips against Sam’s.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>His first thought at touching his partner’s lips is that they’re just as smooth as he expected. It’s no surprise that Sam has a religious skincare routine, but Steve didn’t know that it also applied to his lips. They’re smooth as silk and tantalizingly sweet and Steve can’t help but think of cherries, and revels at the hint of mint he tastes. Sam pushes into the touch, and when he angles his head slightly to the right, Steve feels the kiss change; adding just a touch more purpose to it. Sam’s hands go up to Steve’s waist, his fingers gripping the fabric there and Steve has to give him credit: he’s making it look as convincing to an outsider as possible.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>The footsteps fade away, the sound floating one ear and out the other. Steve pulls away slowly, fully prepared to dive back in if they come back this way. At some point Sam’s eyes had fluttered closed, and his dark eyelashes sweep across his cheeks, revealing those deep limpid pool eyes of his. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>There’s a heat in there that Steve has never seen before and the sight takes his breath away. He swallows, tries to make his throat not so dry and releases his grip on Sam. Steve turns away, feels the burning blush across his face and on the back of his neck. He peeks out of the alcove, and when he doesn’t see their tail, leads the way out of there with as much dignity as he can muster.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Gonna have to have Nat teach me that,” Sam jokes, and it might be Steve’s imagination but he swears that his voice has gone hoarse.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Yeah,” Steve breathes as they walk the floor of the shopping mall. It doesn’t matter that he doesn’t meet Sam’s eyes. After all, he’s making sure they’ve really lost their tail and it’s just being cautious. “You’re really shit at it.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Sam’s bark of laughter releases the tension in Steve’s stomach and eases the weight in his chest.</span>
</p>
  </div><div class="fff_chapter_notes fff_foot_notes"><b>Author's Note:</b><blockquote class="userstuff"><p>Day 4: Undercover</p><p>I would have added the pills, but somehow "Anti-Nausea Pills and Breath Mints" doesn't sound enticing enough.</p></blockquote></div></div>
</body>
</html>